


son, brother, husband

by ariel2me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: Written for Stannis Baratheon Week 2017 on Tumblr.Stannis the son, the brother, and the husband.





	1. Stannis the son

> _His eyes were open wounds beneath his heavy brows, a blue as dark as the sea by night. (A Clash of Kings)_

Green was the color of his mother's eyes, a green as lustrous as the brightest of emeralds. Green was the color of Cassana's watchful eyes, eyes that saw too much and never refused to see all that there was to see, eyes that fought against any kind of willful blindness, even when it came to those she loved and cherished the most.

Blue was the color of his father's eyes, a blue as light as the sky on a sunny day. Blue was the color of Steffon's laughing eyes, eyes that too often refused to see all that there was to see, a form of willful blindness most prevalent when it came to the failings of his royal cousin.

Blue was the color of  _his_  eyes, a blue as dark as the sea on a starless night. Blue was the color of Stannis' watchful eyes, eyes that saw too much and yet at times still fought a losing battle against his own form of willful blindness.

Blue-green was the color of the sea, the day his father's blue eyes and his mother's green eyes met for one final glance, the day  _his_  eyes turned into “open wounds beneath his heavy brows.


	2. Stannis the brother

 

> “ _Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother’s peach.” (A Clash of Kings)_

The peaches came from Highgarden, crates and crates of them, accompanied by a letter from Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, welcoming Lord Steffon of House Baratheon back to the Seven Kingdoms  _“upon the successful completion of the delicate and most important mission entrusted to you and your lady wife by our wise and most esteemed king.”_

“I suppose Mace Tyrell does not know that your father is returning from Volantis with no bride for Prince Rhaegar. And so he is blatantly trying to curry favor with the man he thinks will be appointed by the king as the next Hand. Currying favor with peaches.  _Peaches_ , I tell you! If he thinks a few crates of peaches could sway your father's thinking, he has another thing coming,” Great-Uncle Harbert said to Stannis, his voice full of scorn for the man from Highgarden.

Stannis had no thought to spare for the man from Highgarden. All his concern was solely concentrated on a single matter. “Will the king be wroth, because Father and Mother fail to find a bride with the blood of Old Valyria for Prince Rhaegar? What will Father do, when he is summoned to court to answer to His Grace?” Stannis asked.

Great-Uncle Harbert pretended to be busy examining the peaches in one of the crates. “Too ripe by half, all of them. They'll be ruined before Windproud finds her way back to Storm's End,” he harrumphed, before abruptly walking away, leaving Stannis with his little brother.

Renly snatched away one of the peaches with both his hands before Stannis could stop him. He opened his mouth wide, showing the two new front teeth that had not yet descended when their father and mother left for Volantis. When Renly tried to cram the entire fruit into his mouth, Stannis quickly took the peach away from his brother's chubby hands.

“It's too hard and too large. You'll choke on it,” Stannis admonished Renly, shaking his head and wagging his finger at the toddler.

The piercing scream came swiftly. But Stannis was not swayed, resisting his brother's effort to take back the peach. “No! You can't have it. It's not for you. Not yet.”

Then came the tears, the tears streaming down Renly's cheeks. The rosy, blooming cheeks their father had delighted in gently pinching and their mother had delighted in showering with kisses.

Stannis had his mother and father on his mind, when he finally relented and said to Renly, “Oh, very well. You may have a piece of it. Only a  _small_ piece, mind you.” He tore a chunk off the peach flesh, before halving it, and then halving it once more. He pressed the now small piece between his fingers to soften it. His hand sticky with peach juice, he fed the small morsel to Renly, whose eyes lit up with surprise, joy and delight, having never tasted a peach before. He continued feeding Renly small pieces of the peach until almost the whole fruit was gone.

Renly smacked his lips and then rolled around on the floor with glee. When Stannis tried to pull him up, he buried his face - his face that was smeared with peach juice - on Stannis' chest, staining Stannis' doublet with the same sticky substance. Vexed, Stannis gazed sternly at Renly and said, “Now look what you have done, you naughty boy.”

Renly laughed. Strangely, the laughter seemed most welcome to Stannis at that moment. It was a respite from the gloomy thoughts haunting his mind about the king's wrath. He smiled, a brief, glancing smile, trying to coax another laugh from his little brother.


	3. Stannis the husband

 

> “ _Renly says that Robert carried the girl upstairs during the feast, and broke in the wedding bed while Stannis and his bride were still dancing.” (A Game of Thrones)_

At the sept, Selyse had not smiled the nervous smile of a shy maiden, when Stannis cloaked her with Baratheon colors. Instead, she had met his stern gaze with an equally implacable look of her own.

“A  _proud_  lass,” Robert had grumbled afterwards, at the wedding feast. “Haughty, too. Too haughty by half, considering she does not exactly look like love's young dream,” he snickered in his loud, booming voice.

'Lower your voice!” Stannis hissed. “You have no call to shame my lady wife in front of half the realm.”  _It was you who commanded me to wed a Florent,_  he could have added. Robert had not dictated  _which_  Florent, as long as the bride was a Florent; the better to check the Tyrell's presumption by having their most overmighty bannerman related to the king by marriage, according to Jon Arryn, whose head had dreamed up this marriage alliance in the first place.

Having no unwed daughter to offer to the king's brother, Alester Florent, the Lord of Brightwater Keep, had first offered his more comely niece Delena. But Stannis thought the girl was flighty, prone to fits of giggling and squeals of delight that grated on his ears and would surely drive him mad with frustration if he had to live with it for years and years to come. Robert thought Stannis was  _already_ mad for choosing the  _other_  niece, the far less comely one.

“You'll have to dance with her, with your overmighty bride. She'll probably insist on leading,” Robert said, with relish. “With that mustache on her upper lip, some might even confuse her for the groom.”

“Be quiet!” Stannis snapped. Whispering furiously in Robert's ear, he reminded his brother, “The whole point of making the Florents your kin by marriage is to check the power and influence of the Tyrells, and to warn and remind them to stay loyal to you, on pain of losing their position as overlord of the Reach to House Florent, should they ever waver in their loyalty. If you were to shame the Florents at this wedding, then that defeats the whole purpose of this marriage.”

Red-faced and snarling, Robert raised his hand as if to strike. “How  _dare_  you tell me to be quiet? I am your king! You … you -”

“Your Grace. _”_ Her voice was like a whip, and it stayed Robert's hand and silenced his tongue. “Will you honor me with the first dance?” Selyse continued.

Flustered, Robert replied, “I … well, I … yes, of course, I will be honored to dance with you, Lady Selyse. But perhaps the first dance should be reserved for your lord husband?”

“How much did you hear?” Stannis asked his lady wife, as they were dancing. Robert was nowhere to be seen; his promise to dance the second dance with Selyse merely another one of his empty promises, it seemed.

“I heard enough,” Selyse replied.

“My brother had no intention to shame you or your family.”

Selyse regarded him evenly, without saying a word.

Stannis resisted the unfamiliar urge to turn away, to escape from her sharp scrutiny. Her gaze was almost as scornful and withering as his own, each time he thought he was blatantly being lied to, or being made a fool of.

“I will make no excuses for my brother. He is who he is, such as he is,” Stannis finally said.  _And I will make no excuses for myself. I am who I am, such as I am_ , he could have added.

Selyse nodded. “Good,” she said. “Then we are in agreement, lord husband.”

 


End file.
